Sweat burned her eyes. The arashitora tossed his head and steered himself away from the obstacle course again, jerking the reins from Yukiko’s hand. The circuit ran endlessly around the iron spike in the center of the arena; a ring of packing crates, bales of dirty yellow straw, and crumbling statues of bent, wizened men. Losing her grip with her thighs, Yukiko slid off the thunder tiger’s neck and tumbled to the ground, landing in a painful heap on her rump.
“You stupid idiot!” she yelled. “Can’t you tell left from right?” The beast growled at her and tossed his head again, clawing at the steelshod bridle around his beak. His talons rasped across the metal weave, giving birth to tiny sparks.
“If you break another one, you get no dinner tonight,” she warned him. A roar of defiance.
“Maybe he’s had enough for one day,” Hiro ventured.
The lone Iron Samurai sat in the benches above their heads; a spectator to
the ongoing farce that was the arashitora’s “training.” Several bushimen were scattered among the seats and along the arena walls, laughing in appreciation whenever Buruu misbehaved. To say that the beast’s education was going badly was an understatement.
“Maybe he’s just too stupid,” called one. “No wonder the damn things died out.”
FIVE MINUTES ALONE. WE WILL SEE WHO IS STUPID, INSECT.
Peace, brother. You’re doing so well.
Yukiko stood up slowly, wincing, and made a show of rubbing her behind where she’d fallen on it. She stretched to touch her toes, feigning a cramp in her lower back, sensing the eyes of the bushimen on her body. Hungry stares and dry mouths.
Aisha was right. These men are fools, suspecting nothing.
THIS CHARADE GROWS TIRESOME.
We’ll have time for pride when we’re far away from here. Until then, we both have to swallow it. For my father’s sake as well as our own.
THIS HARNESS ITCHES.
It had been on the second day, after Buruu bucked her off with his wings for the fifth time that afternoon, that Yukiko suggested some kind of device to strap them down. She drew a rough sketch and had Hiro take it to the Shōgun.
The Guild Artificers had complied sluggishly with Yoritomo’s request, delivering the harness five days later. Thick straps of padded rubber and flexible iron mesh now bound Buruu’s pinions to his flanks. Ostensibly, the harness prevented him from trying to take flight and giving Yukiko a fresh set of bruises. In reality, it also did a fine job of concealing the new feathers sprouting along Buruu’s wings, and catching the old feathers as they moulted away.
Yukiko had found a small box tucked inside the harness on the day it was delivered, her name written on top in precise, beautiful kanji. Inside she found a small mechanical arashitora, sculpted out of paper and brass, no bigger than the palm of her hand. She wound the tiny spring and set it on the floor, watching the wings become a blur, lifting the toy off the ground in short, whirring bounds.
At the bottom of the box, she found a note.
“Grounded in Kigen until my burns heal. Was sorry to hear about your father and Yamagata. I miss you.—Kin.”
She had scanned the note, hidden it inside her obi. Later that night, she tore the message into tiny pieces and scattered it to the wind. She hadn’t the heart to throw away the tiny arashitora. In all the noise and motion of the past few days, she had almost forgotten about Kin, and she was surprised at how relieved the knowledge that he was still living and breathing made her feel. A week spent under the watchful eyes of the bushimen and Lord Hiro was starting to fray her nerves.
I AM LOSING ANOTHER FEATHER. FOURTH PRIMARY. LEFT WING. FIRST PRIMARIES ARE GROWING IN.
How long until you can fly?
DAYS. PERHAPS A WEEK.
Then we’d best start work on freeing my father.
HOW DO YOU PROPOSE WE DO THAT?
We don’t.
THEN HOW . . .
We get the Kagé to do it.
YOU WERE WISE NOT TO KILL DAICHI. DID YOU SUSPECT KAORI KNEW AISHA?
Gods, no. They said that they had people closer to Yoritomo than he could ever dream, but I had no idea it would be his own sister.
PERHAPS YOU HOPED IT WOULD BE SOMEONE DIFFERENT?
I don’t know what you mean.
INDEED.
Anyway, it makes no difference. I didn’t spare Daichi because I thought it would be to our advantage. I spared him because it was the right thing to do. If it were right of me to blame him for obeying Yoritomo’s command, then it would be right of you to hate my father for what he did to your wings. And it’s not.
FEATHERS GROW BACK. MOTHERS DO NOT. AND I DO HATE HIM.
Daichi wasn’t the one who took my mother away. And my father isn’t the reason you’re chained here. You and I both know that. You’re going to have to forgive him one day, Buruu.
. . .
Buruu made no reply.
“I think we should take a break,” Yukiko sighed, rubbing her rear again. She walked across the arena floor, stepped through the gate leading out of the pit. Securing the exit behind her with two iron bolts, she started trudging up the stone stairs toward ground level.